Awareness and Distraction
by Terrence Orson
Summary: [Original Release Date: 6/12/14 (2nd: 6/17/14). Removal: 6/15/14.] [Working Title] Gumball and Darwin, now eighth graders, are in detention, where Darwin makes Gumball reexamine the past in the one Mr. Orson story that shines a new light on Miss Simian. Meanwhile, Nicole has been promoted, but now must punish her sons for what's happened. But something dangerous interrupts her.
1. Prologue: The Last Messages

[The earlier version of this chapter got this story removed due to having chat format. I've corrected myself now, so there should be no more of a problem.]

Prologue: The Last Messages

A text message conversation between Rachel Wilson and Patricia Gavin, recorded on May 14, 2014, 17:26.

Rachel Wilson sat along the length of the couch in the living room of her house, watching one of her favorite mystery shows, _Law and Order_. She enjoyed trying to notice all the miniscule details that could pinpoint the episode's culprit. As dangerous as it was, she wanted to pursue a career as a detective, thanks to this show.

Rachel started to feel bored, though, and the desire to go somewhere with one of her friends slowly grew inside her. She got up and went to ask her mother, who was in the master bedroom reading a book, a collection titled _Alone in the Dark_ (credit goes to EvelioandZgroup), if she could go to the mall this evening. She had completed her homework for the day, so there wasn't much reason for her request to be denied. Her mother gave her approval, but she had to be back by 8:30. Rachel thanked her mother and went to her own bedroom to grab her wallet, and she pulled out her phone to invite someone via text message. She clicked _New Message_ and addressed it to Patricia Gavin, one of her friends.

"Hey," typed Rachel.

"What's up?" asked Patricia a few seconds later.

"Wanna go to the mall?"

"Sorry. I can't. I'm going to the Henderson's to babysit."

"Oh."

"And I'll say it for her now: Erin can't come either. She's with me."

"She's driving?"

For some reason, Patricia didn't reply as quickly as she had been doing so. Rachel waited for two minutes before checking.

"Hello?" Still nothing. Possible scenarios started running through her mind. Rachel felt relaxed a little when she considered that Patricia might have just gotten out of the car and had put her phone away. Still, worse things could have been going on, and as the possibilities grew in mortality, she grew more agitated.

"Hello?!"


	2. Part One: Recognition

**It's kind of obvious what happened in the prologue. This chapter is connected to it, but the explanation will happen in the next chapter.**

Awareness and Distraction

By

Terrence Orson

[Original Release Date: 6/12/14 (2nd: 6/17/14). Removal: 6/15/14.]

**_COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: The author owns none of the characters of _****The Amazing World of Gumball****_, but he does own the OCs_****.****_ The plot is an original idea by the author, and any similarities to_**_** actual persons, living or dead, and places is purely coincidental.**_

_"In English class, you can make any claim you want…as long as you can back yourself up."_

—Paraphrase from a past English teacher

_"The farther back you can look, the farther forward you are likely to see."_

—Winston Churchill (there are a few ways this quote was said)

Part One

Recognition

I

_Teachers are the worst_. That thought swam in thirteen-year-old Gumball Watterson's head as he sat in detention in the back of his teacher Miss Simian's classroom. It was more dimly lit thanks to the rain that poured down over the city of Elmore on this May afternoon. He put the unceasing pitter-patter in the back of his mind as he quietly drummed his blue paws on his desk while eyeing Miss Simian resentfully, as if staring a hole through her skull, seeing her as the worst teacher of them all. The baboon paid him no mind, though. She was engrossed in the small stack of her students' papers that she needed to grade by tomorrow, Thursday, for their report cards.

Sitting next to Gumball was his eleven-year-old adoptive brother, Darwin, who had been the kitten's pet goldfish until he grew legs. Darwin glared at Gumball from the corner of his eye while working on his homework for the day. Gumball had a lazy attitude toward school and a rebellious mind, and he could always count on it to get him in trouble, even at Darwin's expense. Since seventh grade ended, Darwin attempted to eschew situations that could lead to trouble. As a result, Gumball got into tight spots more on his own than with Darwin, but occasionally, he would still take Darwin down with him.

The boys were punished because Gumball got the idea to cut class to avoid today's assessment in fifth period. He had used the excuse of having to go to the bathroom, but he took Darwin, who had gone to the bathroom on his own before the tardy bell rang, with him, tricking him with the idea that there was a secret underground tunnel outside the school leading back into their classroom.

When they came to the spot Gumball claimed led to the tunnel, he grabbed Darwin's fin and said, "Come on!"

He started running away from the campus. Immediately, Darwin was cursing himself in his head, feeling ashamed for falling for this lie. He couldn't tell who was more foolish—the fool or the fool that followed him.

The trick quickly crumbled when they passed Miss Simian's class, which was on the first floor. She was handing out Scantron answer sheets for the second 8th Grade English Benchmark Test when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them running off. The first floor was elevated from the ground due to the staircase that led into Elmore Junior High, but she was standing by the window when they passed. Dropping all the answer sheets she had yet to give, she opened the window, the wrinkles in her face made more visible by her fury, and screeched, "Gumball!"

The boys stopped in their tracks. Dread set in as they looked up to see the infuriated baboon.

"Get inside now!" she commanded before slamming the window closed. They briskly went back into the building, wanting not to make her even madder. When they met her, she slapped them with two hours of detention for three days, unrecoverable zeros on their tests, and she met with Principal Brown to discuss further disciplinary action. The boys were to also serve, starting next Monday, a week of in-school suspension, which Darwin was especially mad about since he was punished for guilt by association.

Aiming his face down at his desk to look inconspicuous, Darwin whispered, "Gumball, I need to ask you something."

"Sure. What?" Gumball whispered back, but he was not quiet enough. Miss Simian looked up from the papers and authoritatively glared at the duo.

"The last time I checked, neither of your names was Sussie McLeod," she said, referencing one of her other students that was known for being a chatterbox, "and even if it was, I still wouldn't let you talk in detention, so stop."

Gumball groaned quietly at the disciplining. Turning away from Darwin, he glared back at Miss Simian. He hated how he was the one to whom Miss Simian regularly made verbal comments that made him feel bad, and issued punishments. Sure, he suffered with the whole class when she gave pop tests, but he was her target. She could be counted on to single him out whenever she got the chance, and she would look the other way if he needed her. Three hundred thousand years of teaching could do a number on you.

"We'll talk later," Darwin whispered, and then, he went back to his homework. Gumball stole a glance at the clock, which hung above the white board. 15:25. Only a little more than an hour and a half before he would be released from this prison. But then he remembered that he would be going straight to his mother, so he could expect her to yell at him once they got home. He didn't like yelling, especially her yelling. It made him feel like she hated him. The very thought could send shivers down his spine.

Anxious, he started to perspire, and his heart started racing—he could hear each beat increasingly clearly—as he took out his own homework and worked on it. He peeked at clock every now and then, and with each glance, his eagerness to be away from Miss Simian grew just as much as his fear of his mother's reaction. Outside, he heard a rumble of thunder, making his ears twitch. At the same time, Darwin, only letting the center of his lips part, whispered so quietly, it almost seemed like he was mouthing the words:

"Dumb ass."

II

"Thank you for your time, Nicole," declared Nicole Watterson's boss, Mark Crumple, a crumpled newspaper with black glasses and legs. In his office on the twelfth floor of the Rainbow Factory, he was conducting interviews for five promotions, positions previously vacated for specific reasons, be it firing, retirement, or promotion from the vacated posts. Only the employees with the top five interview scores would move up. Mr. Crumple sat between two other high-ranking employees: fellow judges seated at either side of his desk. On his right sat a green cubic man; on Mr. Crumple's left was a tree woman with yellow bark skin and turquoise leaf hair.

"You're welcome, sir," Nicole responded.

"We'll let you know at the end of the day where you stand," added Mr. Crumple. "Have a nice rest of the day."

"You do the same." Nicole stood up from her chair and left the office, closing the door behind her. On the inside, she was jumping for joy.

Even if she didn't make it, she had reason to be happy: nothing happened at the last minute to make her blow it by losing her temper right after a great display. She could recall from last year how she had trashed the office in a fit of rage and effectively ruined her chances of being given the promotion after she had caught her husband, Richard, on a game show wearing a lucky tinfoil helmet that Gumball had made when he told her he gave her the helmet. She had unknowingly worn a papier mâché helmet to that interview, but her reaction to her husband's dishonesty was what made her fail.

This time, luck had been on her side. Though she tried to act nonchalant as she left, she couldn't help but grin at the circumstances. The grin soon turned into a rictus, one that made any coworker that she passed by to wonder about her mental state and their own safety. Once she walked in and sat down at her computer, she saw that there was a new email from the Elmore Junior High. She clicked on it and read Principal Brown's report.

As soon as she was finished reading, her grin had turned upside down. The fates hadn't spared her; they had just prolonged the inevitable. A massive clap of thunder erupted outside. Nicole's blood started to boil, and she slowly clenched her fists. She blinked, and her sclerae went from white to glowing yellow, her pupils black to dark red.

Snarling, pointed white teeth bared, she looked for the nearest object. Seeing her stapler, she snatched it and reeled her arm back, aiming it at the computer screen in front of her. Lightning flashed through the window of her office, and another clap shook the building. She froze. Suddenly, her eyes returned to their normal state as she remembered what she had just done.

Anything she did between now and when she left could affect her chances. It would be foolish of her to lash out and lose her opportunity for a better standard of living for her and her family, especially considering that this was what took it away before. And God forbid her boss should walk in right now and catch her preparing to take out her fury on company property.

On the wall hung a poster of the five basic company rules:

**NO Drooling.**

**NO Passing Notes.**

**NO Daydreaming.**

**NO Sneaky Eating.**

**NO Sudden Moves.**

She was certain that with her flare of anger, this act she was close to committing violated the fifth rule. _Ok, Nicole_, she thought. _Control yourself._

She closed her eyes and sighed, putting the stapler back in its place on the desk, disappointment replacing her anger. She knew how her son got in trouble a lot, and she often wondered what could be wrong with him. What made him act this way?

She got up and went to look out the window while keeping a safe distance from it, knowing the danger of lightning strikes. Covering her eyebrows with her index fingers to prevent wrinkles (when reading the email, she became so infuriated, she had neglected to do so), she glowered in the direction that she believed Elmore Junior High was for a few moments, negative thoughts about her eldest child circling in her mind, before speaking to herself:

"One day or another, Gumball, you'll see your errors. I don't know if you'll see on your own or have them shown to you, but you'll see one day."

She walked back to her workspace and got back to work. There would be enough time to punish Gumball when she picked him up from detention and got home. For now, she needed to focus on her work. She looked at the time on her computer. 14:50.

III

Seventeen o'clock finally came, so Miss Simian said, "Alright, boys. It's time for you to go. Remember, you're in here tomorrow and Friday, too." She watched them pack their stuff into their bookbags, get up, and leave without a word. Darwin stopped outside near the restroom and pulled Gumball aside with him.

"Now, here's what I wanted to ask you earlier," Darwin said. "What is wrong with you?!" he barked.

"What?! What are you talking about?" Gumball said, offended.

"It's your fault. You're the reason we're at odds with Miss Simian."

"What? That's not true! She's the reason! She's evil!" he cried. "She's out to get us. More importantly, she's out to get me."

"No, Gumball. She's not, no matter how much you try to convince yourself."

"Oh, yeah? Then why did she move to teaching eighth grade?"

"Her working contract probably changed, but maybe it also had to do with trying to fix you."

"Fix me?! I'm not her pet!"

"I didn't say you were, but that doesn't mean you don't need fixing."

"Well, how do I know you don't need fixing?"

"Because this isn't about me, Gumball. "It's about you." He pointed his fin toward Gumball. "Think about it. Remember last year when we thought the world was about to end?"

"Yeah." Gumball raised an eyebrow.

Making hand gestures to indicate each example, Darwin said, "You ripped up the test, and then you poured water on her face. There was also that time when we set the school swimming pool on fire. You know, the only thing that surprises me as much as how that was even possible is how we didn't get expelled for it. And how about when you threw that paper airplane at her butt? You could have just whispered it to her directly, but no. You had to embarrass her in front of the class, and then you put a cherry on top by doing it in front of Principal Brown."

"What's your point, Darwin?" Gumball asked, crossing his arms.

"You still don't get it? My point is, you think Miss Simian's a bad person, but I think the way you feel is distracting you from the truth: you're responsible for her hostility. The only reason I was ever involved was because I was naïve and usually went along with you."

Gumball thought about what he could say to bolster his position when it suddenly occurred to him: the hostility hadn't started with him and Darwin. It was older than they were.

"What about her and Mom?" Gumball asked. Miss Simian had conflicts with Nicole since Nicole was a baby. Throughout her life, Miss Simian called her a loser for no apparent reason. It was exactly the point Gumball needed to make.

Darwin remembered how last year, Miss Simian had extended friendship toward the Wattersons, but it was a ruse. She was only trying to win the Favorite Teacher Award, the only award for teaching which she had yet to receive, and she had needed a letter of recommendation from one of her students. Gumball was the student who helped her, after teaching her what friends did with each other, and she called the Wattersons losers, igniting Nicole's fury. Darwin had to agree that Miss Simian was deceptive, but he couldn't lose sight of the faults on his brother's side.

"Ok. I'll admit that what she did to Mrs. Mom was inexcusable, but by now, we, and by we, I mean you, have shown her more disrespect than she's shown us," he insisted. "And even if we—you—hadn't, do you really think doing stuff to her would make us any better than you think she is?"

Darwin glared at Gumball dead in the eye, daring him to counter. He saw Gumball open his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Darwin had him.

"Fine," he conceded reluctantly. "I'm responsible for the vendetta between us and Miss Simian." He didn't want to believe it; he just wanted to say what he thought Darwin wanted to hear. But looking back now, he realized now that his brother's words were valid. He could believe what he wanted, but he couldn't deny the truth: Miss Simian's actions were usually reactions to his behavior.

"Good. So, now that you realize that," Darwin continued, still looking at him sternly and trying to lead him on, "what are you going to do about it?"

Another sigh. "I'm going to stop my disruptive behavior so she stops having a reason to dislike us more."

"I don't think you should be telling that to me as much as to someone else." Darwin crossed his arms and smiled at Gumball knowingly. "You know what I think you should do?"

_Oh, please, no,_ Gumball thought, keeping a poker face. He knew what Darwin wanted him to do, but he wasn't keen on it. He had an ego the size of his head, which his tan sweater—or any shirt, for that matter—managed to go over even though his head looked too big for the collar, and an act like this could potentially deflate it like a balloon.

"You should apologize," Darwin said. Gumball groaned in response.

"Alright," he said, not having any other options, knowing that Darwin was right, as much as he didn't want it to be so. He walked back to the classroom, his tail stiff and running down the back of his left leg, and stopped next to the doorway, just out of Miss Simian's sight. He took a deep, slow breath. He had never apologized to her, and the fact that he couldn't back away from it now worried him. Here was the point of no return. He stepped into the doorway. Outside, the rain was letting up, and the sun was reemerging from the clouds.

"Miss Simian," he said, making her look up.

"What is it, Gumball?" she asked, some nastiness sneaking into her tone as she slightly glared. It made him a little more fearful of speaking what was on his mind. He held his mouth slightly open.

"I…just…"

He went silent, feeling like his throat had closed up on him. He started sweating under his sweater, feeling his teacher's patience wearing thin on him like a rope being scraped along a rough surface and fraying. He had to speak. It was now or never. If never, her disdain for him would just grow more and more until her death—God knows when that would be. Probably after his.

"I'm waiting," she said sternly. "I still have the rest of these papers to grade. I'd say what you could expect to see on your report card, but that would likely ruin it."

Gumball looked down guiltily and remained silent. He knew he hadn't given a good effort to making his grades high over the semester, least of all today. Miss Simian looked back at the papers, still waiting for him to speak but not wanting to lose more time with the distraction.

Finally, he overcame his nerves, took a breath, and spoke in a low voice:

"I'm sorry."

Miss Simian turned back to him, one eyebrow raised, stunned by what had escaped his lips.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "for everything." He listed every single infraction he had committed in middle school. All Miss Simian could do was stare at him in awe. This couldn't be happening. Gumball Watterson—the bane of her existence—apologizing? To her? And meaning every word he said? She blushed when he brought up the accidental exposure incident.

"You had every right to be angry and sour. I was acting like you were some evil baboon that wanted to shove me into the ground for no reason when I was the one causing you the trouble and stress. I'm sorry. But no more. Miss Simian, I promise you. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to do my part to be a better student. Not just with my grades, but with my behavior, too. I swear on my brother's fishbowl, Miss Simian, that you'll soon see an improved Gumball Watterson."

Once he was finished, he looked at her intently. She blinked, her expression unchanged. A mixture of feelings passed over her from surprise to skepticism.

"Gumball…I— I don't know what to say," she stammered.

"I meant it all," he reassured. "Really."

"…you did?"

"Absolutely."

Miss Simian stood up from her chair and walked toward her student. "Well, then, if you are really intent about this, then I expect you to keep your promise. Can I trust you to do that, Gumball?" she asked skeptically, hands on her hips.

"Yes, ma'am, especially since I've got Darwin by my side to keep me in check."

Miss Simian chuckled. "You know, you're very fortunate to have a friend like him who makes sure you're doing your best in life." She spoke with genuine kindness, smiling at him warmly, something she'd never done before.

"Yeah. Thanks," he said, smiling back.

"Have a good evening, Gumball," she said, going back to her desk.

"You too, Miss Simian. Oh, and one more thing." He put his hands behind his back. "So…does this mean my punishment is lifted, and I don't have to be suspended?" he said rapidly, grinning innocently at the end. He even showed her his puppy-eyes face that said, "You wouldn't deny a look like this, would you?" Miss Simian wanted to question him about whether or not this was his true reason for apologizing to her: getting off the hook. But when she took one look into his big gleaming eyes, she found the display pathetic, being immune to it, and burst out cackling like a witch, pounding her fist on her desk.

Gumball frowned at Miss Simian, embarrassed. He left the classroom and joined Darwin, who stood on the stair steps that lead into the school, waiting for their mother. Miss Simian got control of herself again and walked back to her desk, where she continued her task. The thought of Gumball's act of repentance stayed fresh on her mind. She had figured that on his list of things he would never do, apologizing for his actions to _her_—with real remorse—came before the first item.

"So, you did it?" asked Darwin.

"Yep," Gumball answer, deciding not to bring up the subject of his embarrassing moment as possible. "It actually makes me feel pretty good."

Darwin smiled. "I'm proud of you, Gumball. You may not have figured it out on your own, but you did the right thing."

Gumball curled up his lip, a little embarrassed by his brother's words but, at the same time, thankful for the compliment. The days of making Miss Simian scorn them were over. She'd see it. Everyone would. Gumball looked toward the road leading to EJH. He may have eased some tension between himself and Miss Simian, but what his mother had in store for him would soon bring his spirits down again. It would be only a matter of time before she pulled up into the lot to pick him and Darwin up. Soon enough, he'd get the next course in punishment: Créme of Mom's Mouth soup. He knew only he deserved it, but Darwin was likely to get some, too.


End file.
